


But Not Enough

by queeny407



Category: Ragnatela
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Blackmail, Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Leo being a creep but what else is new, Leonardo Borghese - Freeform, Mama Patience, Minor Original Character(s), Mommy Issues, Oedipal Issues, On the Run, Original Character(s), Other, Patience Winslow - Freeform, Pedophilia, Ragnatela - Freeform, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Sal being a dad, Salvatore Mallozzi - Freeform, Statutory Rape, Trauma, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeny407/pseuds/queeny407
Summary: Darla Mallozzi figured that her life was hard enough already - getting perfect grades to get away from her family, raising her siblings because her parents were too fucked-up to do it themselves, and trying to reconcile her feelings for her best friend Marianne with her mother's Biblical ranting.But then she sneaks out one night to follow her father on one of his mysterious business activities. And she meets Leonardo Borghese.And all of a sudden, her existence is no longer based in anger and resentment, but fear and pain.
Relationships: Darla Mallozzi / Giovanni de Luca, Darla Mallozzi / Marianne Wright, Patience Winslow / Salvatore Mallozzi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. The First Thing She Has to Hide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quieta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quieta/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ragnatela](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942924) by [Quieta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quieta/pseuds/Quieta). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darla gets the birthday gift every teenage girl dreams of - a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AU I thought of while imagining Patience and Salvatore being married. I hope you guys enjoy my interpretation of their eldest daughter!

When Darla turned thirteen, her mother took her to the junkyard and taught her how to shoot.

She brooked no argument, because that wasn’t something Patience Winslow knew how to do. She took her daughter by the arm and called to her husband that they were going out to look at birthday gifts, and then pulled the young girl out the door.

Darla couldn’t help but feel disappointed when they reached the yard. She had been hoping that maybe she could look at a new dress, or shoes, or something  _ normal girls with normal families _ did for their thirteenth birthdays, but looking back on it, she guessed she shouldn’t have expected anything different.

There were several cans set up on random objects, and an old mattress that had been painted with a bullseye. Darla stared at the site in confusion, then jumped as her mother pressed something into her hand.

She looked down at the small revolver, with its shiny brown handle, and felt her mood spike in an unfamiliar way. “What’s this, Mamma?”

“Your gift.” She turned and saw the small woman pull out one of her own. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to hold it.”

They spent an hour going over stance and loading. When her mother put her arms around her to adjust the height of her hands, the young girl realized that she was taller than her now. Darla could have sworn this was the most motherly Patience had been in years.

Considering that she was teaching her daughter how to shoot a gun, most other people would probably be concerned. But not Darla. That was her family, after all.

When she squeezed the trigger and let out her first shot, the resulting  _ bang! _ made the young girl scream and drop the gun. Her mother picked it up and gave it back to her before taking a step back and crossing her arms. “Again.” She seemed a bit less snappy than usual, but still snappy.

Darla’s arms ached after a few hours of practice, and she only managed to even hit the  _ paint _ once. She was nowhere close to hitting the bullseye.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

She hung her head the way she did whenever she got less than an A on her tests. “Sorry, Mamma.”

“We’re going to keep practicing every day.” Patience turned to her daughter and looked her straight in the eye. “I want you to listen to me; keep this near you at all times, alright? I don’t want to ever see you leave it at home.”

“But I can’t take this to school-”

“ _ Darla _ , you will hide this at the bottom of your bag if you have to.” Her mother’s tone had grown sharp in a way it hadn’t before. “Promise me you’ll keep it with you.”

Darla swallowed at the intense look on her mother’s face, like there was more she had to say but refused to. “I promise.”

Patience exhaled slightly. “Good. Don’t go telling your Papà about this, okay?”

“I won’t.”

The pair were all sweaty afterwards, so Patience relented when her daughter begged for ice cream, and they looked in shop windows as they ate. She bought Darla a small bracelet so that Sal wouldn’t be suspicious about what they had been up to.

Darla hadn’t expected a day out with her mother to be so... _ fun _ . Yes, fun! Even shooting had gotten to feeling good towards the end of practice. And she got ice cream and jewelry out of it, didn’t she?

They got home and Papà had made dinner for her birthday - carbonara, her favorite. Her siblings sang to her while she cut her chocolate cake, and Sal Jr. cried for a bigger piece than hers because of course he did, he was her younger brother and the first son - she shuddered to think about what he’d be like when he was older.

Still, even after such a nice birthday, Darla felt unsettled. She hid the revolver under a stack of her shirts in her dresser drawer, and lay awake that night, thinking about the demanding way her mother had gripped her shoulders and ordered her to keep the gun near.

Surely, she was just being paranoid. Was there ever a time that Patience Winslow was truly at ease?

Still, to please her mother, Darla listened and carried the revolver everywhere. She practiced every day until she could hit the bullseye, then the cans, then all of the cans in a row. It sat in her bag for three years, and even after going to highschool, she still didn’t fully understand why her mother was adamant about her having it.

Then she met Leonardo Borghese when she was sixteen. And she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the slow start, but I really want to explore before Leo's nasty ass makes his appearance. Stay tuned!


	2. Something Her Younger Brother Had to Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darla decides to go pick her brother up from school for once - and is met with devastation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to simplify things, Sal Jr will be referred to as Sal in this book. Salvatore Mallozzi, Darla's father, will be pretty exclusively referred to as Salvatore.
> 
> Sal Jr = Sal
> 
> Sal Sr = Salvatore
> 
> Enjoy!

Darla huffed to herself as she tapped her foot against the sidewalk impatiently. School had let out almost half an hour ago,  _ where was Sal? _

He certainly wasn’t staying behind for help or anything, his grades could attest to that. She didn’t know why he would stay in school later than necessary. She was going to go meet Marianne and Suzie for shakes soon - she didn’t have time to wait for him. She needed to make sure someone other than their parents were home if Simona needed help with her homework.

Completely fed up, she opened the school door and made her way to his last period classroom.  _ 367, right…? _ She didn’t care if she found him smoking with his friends or beating someone up, she needed to find him so that they could  _ go _ .

When she reached the room, its door was closed, but she could hear voices inside. Not bothering to look through the window, she pulled it open.

And she froze.

Her younger brother was backed against a desk, his shirt open and his belt on the floor. His pants were being undone by an older woman with rumpled hair and unbuttoned blouse -  _ his teacher _ .

The two jumped when they heard the door open, and turned their heads to see Darla standing there, aghast. “D-Darla,” Sal stuttered, a nervousness in his voice that she’d never once heard.

“O-Oh, is this your sister?” The woman - Mrs. Campbell, according to the placard on her desk - hurriedly pulled away from him, and quickly began doing up her blouse.

Darla felt rage building in her as she watched Sal swiftly pull his pants together and grab his belt off the floor, so much so that she almost didn’t hear Mrs. Campbell address her. “Your brother has told me a lot about you.” Her voice was sickeningly calm, and when Darla’s icy gaze turned on her, she didn’t even flinch.

“Oh, has he?”

“Let’s go,” he muttered, grabbing her arm and nearly dragging her out of the room. He slammed the door shut behind them and tried to quickly make his way to the exit before Darla grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and yanked him around. “What was that?” she hissed, and he glared at her, although his lip was quivering just slightly. “None of your business.”

“Sal-”

He slammed the school doors open and stomped away from her, making her scream. “SALVATORE RICHARD MALLOZZI, YOU BETTER NOT MOVE A FUCKING MUSCLE!”

He stopped in his tracks, hunching his shoulders, and she could see him clenching his fists as she approached and stood her ground in front of him. “How long has she been doing this?”

Sal grit his teeth and muttered quietly. “Just forget it.”

Darla stared at her younger brother, his handsome, rugged features almost a perfect resemblance to their father, making him look like he was twenty and not fifteen. He towered over her now at almost six feet and two inches, and she knew that he’d outpace their father soon. His lips were smeared with red lipstick, his shoulders shaking with rage and humiliation.

She thought of the last two months, how touchy he was, how easily he would yell at Simona or Laura when they asked to play, even though he’d usually oblige them happily. How he would slam his room door shut and ignore Gabe when he wanted to practice baseball with his older brother. He’d sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and she never asked why because he’d be back by morning anyway, unharmed, so why invade his privacy? She’d assumed he was angry about their parents or school or just being a teenage boy, and she’d never asked.

She’d failed him.  _ She was his big sister and she’d failed him _ .

She nearly started to cry.

She quietly gave him her handkerchief, and when he looked at her in confusion, she just tapped the side of her mouth. He registered what she was saying and quickly wiped at his face.

They walked back home in silence. When they were a block away from the house, Sal spoke so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “She found my pocket knife in my bag.”

Darla’s eyes bugged out of her head. “What? So?” She knew for a fact that most boys in his grade probably carried something around anyway to try and look tough.

“So she threatened to get me expelled.”

In a community as rough as theirs, the public high school that Sal attended had seen its fair share of violence. A pocket knife wasn’t enough to expel someone usually, but he’d already been in several fights this year alone and had a violent enough reputation to encourage the board.

“She said she wouldn’t if I did what she wanted, so I…” his voice cracked and he shut his mouth quickly. Darla stared at the ground as they walked.

“Don’t tell them.”

She knew exactly who he meant by ‘them.’ Salvatore and Patience Mallozzi were biased towards their daughters when it came to their children facing trouble, and she didn’t want to bring their anger and disappointment down on Sal. Would they even care if they knew? Or would they just blame him?

“I won’t.” As they reached the door of the house, Darla made him a promise. “I’ll fix this, I swear.”

He just gave her a tired look, one that spoke of a boy who’d been forced to grow up much too fast, and walked into their home, his head hung low. When Simona and Gabe saw him, they shrunk away, and his expression grew even worse as he shut himself away in his room.

Darla watched him go sadly, and her younger siblings looked up at her. She smiled at them softly and patted their heads. “You should say hi to him when he comes home.”

Simona pouted. “He acts scary.” Gabe nodded and shuffled his feet. “He doesn’t play with us anymore.”

“I know. But he’s your brother. Just wait for him, okay?” She kissed their cheeks. “He’ll play with you again soon.”

***

When she got to her room, she began to pace, biting her thumb as she tried to think of a solution.

Could she go to the police? This was statutory after all-  _ No, are you stupid? Did you forget your father guts people for a living? _

No police, then. Even if they took the charge seriously, it would just plunge her whole family into trouble. She wouldn’t put her siblings through an investigation, not after what had happened to her, Sal, and Giuseppe before.

She pushed the memory of seeing her mother standing over the crib back down into the recesses of her mind, clenching her jaw.

Should she use her gun? That smug bitch’s smile when they left the classroom sorely tempted her - Mrs. Campbell knew that Darla wouldn’t risk getting her brother expelled, or exposing her and leaving his classmates to humiliate him.

Information. She needed information. Any dirt she could find, she’d take. But how?

An idea bloomed in her head, one that she  _ really _ did not want to resort to, but the image of her brother being assaulted every day made her yank her door open and hurry towards the phone. 

She opened the crumpled piece of paper she had stashed in her drawer and slowly rang the number.

“Hello?”

“Gio, it’s me.”

There was a bit of silence, before the voice on the other end acquired a sleazy tone. “Dar-la,” he purred, emphasizing the syllables of her name on his tongue. She cringed, practically seeing his leer in front of her. “What can I do for you,  _ cara mia _ ?”

“I have a task for you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I need you to find something on someone for me.”

“So dull. Alright.”

“Good, thank you. Her name is-”

“Ah-ah.” He interrupted her easily, and she crushed the piece of paper in her hand. “No business over the phone. You’ll have to come meet me.”

“Oh, fuck off-”

“Don’t be vulgar.” His tone changed to something sharp, and Darla felt that familiar spike of anxiety in her heart from whenever she met him. “Come see me. And make sure your Papà doesn’t know, hm? I’d prefer him to forget about me.”

She could feel her fist shaking with anger, but grimaced. “Fine.”

“Good girl. Eleven tonight,  _ cara mia. _ You still have my address, right?”

“Yes.” With that, she slammed the phone down, not caring about whatever else he might have to say. He would be furious, but she couldn’t give less of a fuck at this point. They’d made their arrangements. And she had one more, dearer person to call.

A gentle voice on the other end picked up. “Hello, this is the Wright residence. To whom am I-”

“Marianne, it’s me.”

Her friend’s voice immediately brightened up. “Oh, Darla! Is this about shakes? Suzie said she’d get her mom to lend us her car if we wanted!”

The young girl bit her lip as she listened to Marianne’s excitement. “Right. Listen, I need a favor.”

“Of course! Whatever you need.”

_ Oh Marianne. _ Darla might have kissed her if they’d been speaking face-to-face. “I have something to take care of later this evening. If my parents call to ask where I am, say that I’m sleeping over at your house, will you?”

There was a momentary silence. “Darla, what’s going on?” Worry laced her voice. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, I promise, I just need to take care of something.” She softened her tone to reassure her friend. “You don’t need to worry, really. Just an errand to run.”

“...okay.” She didn’t sound very happy, but Darla knew that Marianne would keep her word. “Thank you. I’ll see you in twenty minutes-.”

“Call me at midnight!” the young woman demanded. “Just to let me know you’re okay!”

Darla smiled softly. “I might not be able to do midnight.”

“Then just call when you can!” She caught herself and Darla heard her breathe deeply. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

She opened her mouth to answer when she heard the front door click. “Yes, see you, Marianne. And thanks again.”

She hung up and turned to see Patience shutting the door, and jumped as she felt two small arms wrap around her leg. She looked down to see Laura smiling widely. “Darla, look, look!” She let go and put her hands up to her hair. “Mamma took me to get my hair cut!”

Darla knelt to her little sister’s level and scrutinized her appearance. Her soft brown locks, which had previously been long enough to drape over her shoulders, had been cropped just below her jawline. “You look adorable!”

She giggled and ran over to her other siblings, and Darla stood back up, turning to her mother. “I could have cut her hair if you asked.”

“I didn’t want to risk a repeat of last time.”

Ah. Darla cringed, remembering. Last year she had taken it upon herself to trim Simona’s hair to a more manageable length, but her father had slammed the front door open and she’d jumped so badly that she’d accidentally cut a full three inch swatch of hair diagonally across the back of her little sister’s head. Simona cried for a whole three hours and both Darla  _ and _ Salvatore had gotten several earfuls from Patience.

Darla had accepted her blame with dignity, but Salvatore hadn’t. “How the fuck was I supposed to know? It’s not like our kids are cutting each other’s hair every damn day!”

He slept on the couch.

Darla carefully examined her mother as the woman rifled through her bag, trying to place her mood. She didn’t seem annoyed or irritated, just slightly tired. The young girl pictured Laura bouncing on her toes in a salon while her exhausted mother kept a tight hold on her hand. 

“I’m sleeping over at Marianne’s tonight. I’ll try to be back tomorrow afternoon.”

Patience raised an eyebrow. “That’s the second time this last week.”

“And?” A note of challenge entered Darla’s voice, and as mother and daughter stared at each other, the clear, unspoken message hung between them:  _ You don’t want me around here anyway. _

Darla was the one who’d practically shoved Patience into marriage. She was the one conceived out of wedlock. She looked too much like her father and too much like Patience for the woman to disconnect the teenager from herself.

Sal Jr looked identical to his father in every way, so Patience could ignore his smoking, his fighting, his  _ failings _ and shunt him off towards Salvatore without a second thought.

Simona, Laura, and Gabe had their mother’s brown hair and freckles, and were already showing signs of future success; Gabe was excelling at baseball, and Simona and Laura were model students. Patience could embrace their accomplishments tightly and pull the children towards her, away from their father.

But their eyes, while green, were a shade too light. Darla’s eyes matched her mother’s exactly.

Darla had her father’s sharp, high cheekbones, his long eyelashes and thick black hair. Darla had her mother’s heart-shaped face and nose, the same petal pink lips, the same stark green eyes. She was tall and voluptuous and had the boys chasing after her. She’d made honor roll all through her school years so far and gotten a scholarship to a highbrow Catholic academy. She had straight A’s, she read bedtime stories to her baby siblings, she had a large circle of friends, she was an excellent shot, an excellent cook, she was-

Darla was the best of Salvatore Mallozzi and Patience Winslow. She was the first and perfect child. She looked like her father when she stood next to him and like her mother when she stood next to her.

Darla was a painful reminder to Patience Winslow what her life had become, who she had married, what standard she compared her other children to. What she compared  _ herself _ to.

And she hated her for it. And Darla knew.

“...fine. And bring the Wrights a gift for having you over so much.” She stalked towards her bedroom and shut the door firmly, not even looking at her other children.

Darla felt her fists clench with familiar anger. She wished her siblings weren’t home so she could scream. It wasn’t  _ her _ fault her mother hadn’t been able to look past her pussy and married the first man who’d stuck his cock in her. It wasn’t  _ her _ fault they weren’t careful and brought her into existence. It wasn’t  _ her _ fault they had five more damn kids even when it was so clear their marriage had failed.

It wasn’t Darla’s fault that one of those kids wasn’t there anymore.

She swallowed the lump in her throat that spontaneously formed whenever she thought of Giuseppe, and playfully ruffled Laura’s newly-short hair as she walked back to her room. Marianne and Suzie would be here soon, and she had to prepare for her appointment with the Devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and cover as much as I can in the next few chapters before shit hits the fan. I want to really delve deep into Darla, her personality, her sexuality, and her mindset as Patience and Sal's child. Thank you for putting up with my exposition!
> 
> I will admit that Leo will not show up for a couple chapters. I think the Patience - Sal marriage and household deserves a LOT of exploration, especially to establish Darla's character. He'll show soon, though - at the worst time possible, as Leo always does. ;)


End file.
